Paths of Green and Gold

Bodyguard - hunt

The tall man was very thin. With his long blonde hair tied in a messy ponytail, it was hard not to notice long pointy ears. Thorn's face hardened. How could someone with the blood of the Elder Race in his veins stoop so low as to associate with these... even calling them animals seemed much too noble. And it was more than that - judging from the other thugs' reactions, the thin man seemed to hold an important position among them. The warrior felt another wave of rage, but he knew he couldn't just give in to it - not with Selena in the picture.   

Taking a deep breath and looked around the campsite once more. His gaze stopped at each of the potential opponents, trying to judge their abilities and strengths. Considering the scene of the m******e they saw on the road, he didn't expect an honorable fight. 

His walls of self-control were crumbling. His hand instinctively grabbed the hilt of the sword as his lips started moving in silent prayer.

"Aethen roquon agarlang..."

With each barely whispered word, the claws of fury closed tighter around his heart as the call of blood and death filled his mind, slowly drowning out everything else. On the outside, though, not much has changed, slightly tensed muscles and the fire of bloodlust in the warrior's eyes being the only indications of his present state.

* * *  

[Thorn stormed down the dark streets, blind to his surroundings. Even the chilly bite of frost couldn't calm the storm of fury caused by the events of that day.  

He was terrified. Not by the world around him, but by the beast within. Fear paralyzed him. The same fear pushed him into action. He left his companions - too afraid he could hurt someone dear to him.

Kill... Kill... Kill... The monotone chant in his mind merged with the rhythm of his steps.

Insanity lurked on the edge of consciousness not giving him any rest, and he knew that the monster trapped inside would not be appeased unless blood was shed.   

Would he be alone for the rest of his life? Was that the path he chose? It didn't matter. It wouldn't be long now.

Kill. Kill. Kill. The right opponent was all it would take.  

One rule he never broke before - never kill those unarmed. That was the only reason he could still live with himself.

He carved the code in his heart. He lived by the code. He killed by the code. He was the master of his actions.

Or was he?

How long before he'd lose that last bastion? Each experience of the past few weeks pushed him closer and closer to the precipice.    

Kill! Kill! Kill! He heard flapping of wings above him and noticed a black silhouette.

He stopped. He breathed. He looked around.

An inn. One of those stinking run-down dives, where city thugs and outlaws gathered.

KILL! KILL! KILL!

Salvation? Another sacrifice to his cruel goddess. Last breath? He could almost feel the cold caress of death on his shoulder.   

Kill... A lonely cry of a raven.

Thorn took off the hood of his warm cape and stepped inside.] 

* * *  

The forgotten backpack slid down to the ground as Thorn left his hiding place and entered the campsite.

"Aethen iarlang!" he shouted in his melodic native tongue, his clear voice full of conviction, as he charged into the enemies sitting around the fire.

Surprised bandits scrambled to their feet. Before they managed to react, Thorn's blade reached the first one, cutting cleanly from forehead to chin in a geyser of blood. Without breaking the movement, the warrior slashed the torso of the next opponent who jumped back in shock scattering the campfire. The third thug tried to pick up his axe, but the attacker gave him no chance to reach it – with a flash of steel the hand fell to the ground next to the weapon. The outlaw let out an agonizing scream, desperately trying to stop the bleeding.

Thorn knew the non-human would be the real challenge. Every second he spent fighting with the other thugs was a waste of time and energy. His biggest advantage in this fight was the element of surprise but that had already worn off. He had to get rid of his opponents as soon as possible. Being able to only use one hand, his chances of survival were down to reliance on miracles. And with every attack, they were diminishing even more.

The elf – or maybe he was a half-breed like him? – closely watched the fight around the campfire. He was already holding a simple sword and parrying dagger and Thorn could easily recognize the characteristic posture of a seasoned swordsman. His own skills were analyzed and judged, which gave yet another advantage to his final opponent. 

He instinctively dodged the simultaneous sword and flail attacks, and glanced at the huge bald man now towering over him with a dangerously-looking spiky club. The warrior instantly knew one blow of that thing would end the fight for him.

Suddenly he heard some movement on the right. Two more bandits appeared from a hut on the other side of the campsite, one of them still trying to put on his boots. Thorn was too busy to follow their movements, though. He attacked again. He had to eliminate the two enemies that flanked him. His blade only scraped the boot of the thug with the sword, but his second cut reached the chest of the other man, dyeing his shirt crimson. The man staggered, his face disfigured by pain.

Thorn was just about to step back, when the falling club appeared right in front of him. Iron spikes tore his shirt open leaving bloody marks on his chest. He stumbled overwhelmed by the power of the blow. At that same moment, the thug with a sword hit him on the head with the guard. Black spots whirling in front of his eyes, Thorn attacked blindly. The groan he heard was enough of a compensation. At least for now. Trying to regain his balance and rhythm, he focused on the sounds. He blocked the next flail attack and countered but his blade missed the target.

On his right, a few meters away, he heard the song of the falling blade and a man's scream, which died as suddenly as it started - Selena joined the fight. His time was running out. He turned around and, still barely seeing anything, cut from above using all his power. His opponent tried to dodge but Thorn's blade was faster. Spitting blood the thug with a sword fell to the ground almost cut in half. The warrior wiped the blood from his face with a sleeve. He easily avoided the badly executed blow of the flail and countered with a low horizontal cut in the bandit's stomach. His blade reached deep enough to eliminate another enemy.

Jumping back to dodge another blow of the heavy club Thorn glanced to the right. One of the thugs was lying on the ground, his head a few steps away from the lifeless body. Selena was just attacking the other one with a powerful cut to the side of the head. Reassured by the fact his cousin was holding her ground, he focused on his own fight. Three corpses were already lying at his feet. Two more bandits were kneeling near the remains of the fire, one still howling in pain while holding his bleeding wrist, and the other gurgling in a pool of blood.

The giant man with the spiky club was the last one standing, but Thorn knew his current light weapon was painfully inadequate against this opponent. If he could use his two-handed sword, the situation would be different, but his broken wrist left him no choice. As he moved in for another attack, he noticed the tall blonde swordsman walking towards his cousin with a scornful smirk.